


10 Songs

by alienchrist



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-13
Updated: 2013-06-13
Packaged: 2017-12-14 20:43:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/841177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alienchrist/pseuds/alienchrist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten little stories about Zevran and Fenris, inspired by putting my playlist on shuffle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	10 Songs

[Someone To Watch Over Me (Amy Winehouse)](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wo5--q2GPNo)

 

The Hanged Man lends itself to melancholy. Zevran watches a curl of smoke rise up in a coil from a dwarf’s cigar and pretends very much to be listening to what he’s saying. He’s watching the white-haired elf chatting with a dark-haired Ferelden. The elf is not exactly what anyone might call a catch: he scowls and grunts, he slouches, his suit is threadbare. Zevran still imagines tracing the lines of his tattoos. The elf looks strong, and Zevran likes that. It’s been a long time since he’s had someone to watch his back. 

“That one’s prickly,” Varric warns. 

“I don’t mind that,” Zevran says with a smirk, “So long as he can keep up.”

 

 

[All Falls Down (Kanye West)](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8kyWDhB_QeI)

 

Zevran sets a gold earring in the center of the table and raises an eyebrow at Fenris.

Calling this apartment a dump is too unkind to dumps. The table is the nicest part of it, and Fenris brought it home on his back from a lyrium dusthouse last time he was running with Hawke. Zevran imagines the real estate ad they might place if they could ever afford to move: “A pleasant view of an alley where a hooker was found dead last week, built-in alarm clock at 3AM when the neighbors drunkenly shout, also at 7AM when the girl next door starts sobbing into the pillow facing your wall. Ideal for starving elves who enjoy the sounds of sirens and gunfire almost constantly.”

It isn’t their fault. They’ve been trying for years to live better. They look good in suits, they speak the language, but their ears are pointed and their words are shaped by Antiva and Tevinter, not the Free Marches.

The Warden once told Zevran that they, as elves, could be more than tools, and Zevran wanted to believe it. But the Crows are still coming for him, and the chains of Fenris’s slavery still drag along the broken pavement, throwing up sparks.

“Sell it,” Zevran says. “It is a silly thing.” 

“That’s,” Fenris starts, and Zevran raises his hand.

“We have not paid back what we owed Varric for last time. I will not have it. Take it before I change my mind.” 

Fenris reaches forward, sliding the jewelry back toward himself with his palm.

He does not thank Zevran for it. Zevran can see the tips of his ears have darkened with shame.

 

 

 

[Army of Me (Bj _ö_ rk)](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3biZkA-TNvs)

 

Zevran and Fenris are the only ones who remain.

They are covered in gore and stink of so much battle. Fenris has no armor. The sword is stolen. His eyes are large and blank. There is no movement from the slavers, not a twitch or a sigh or the hint of a black cloud rising in the form of a shade. 

He is not who Zevran met before. They shared a night of fun with Isabela. He remembers a rumbling laugh and a very sharp sense of humor. No, this is not that Fenris: he is a frightened animal.

“Hawke,” Fenris chokes out, crouching to wipe the gore from his purloined sword.

“Sold you, betrayed me,” Zevran spits. 

“You should have left me,” Fenris groans.

“Perhaps I should have,” Zevran says uncharitably. “And perhaps you should have let those slavers cut you down.”

Fenris glares. It is gratifying.

 

 

[Akira (Anamanaguchi)](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8DL0FNDkcD0)

 

It took many weeks of pleading to convince Fenris to take Zevran on one of his nighttime rides. Kirkwall is a bright, sharp chandelier of glass, light and smoke to one side, the sea reflecting it in a wavering mirror on the other. Now and then they set off one of the neon billboards, expanding and arching like fireworks across their vision before they leave it all behind. With the wind moving quickly over them, the pollution does not seem so bad. It really is the perfect kind of outing for them: they do not need to speak a word to each other. Zevran carefully hooks his hands around Fenris’s middle, pressing against the leather of his coat and avoiding the spikes on his shoulders.

It’s just like Isabela and her space ship: there is a feeling of freedom, and possibility, with the wind pulling through their hair. It isn’t the truth, they can’t go wherever they want, but for a little while, they feel as if they could. 

Zevran cannot see Fenris’s face, but he knows it is pinched and cold in the weather. He also knows in that soft moment he started the engine he smiled, and was glad for Zevran’s company.

 

 

[Baby Come Home (Scissor Sisters)](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lM2d28lBM3k)

 

There is an old adage that love makes you crazy. Fenris would have had to believe in love to believe the adage, but the longer he waits for Zevran the more he inches toward agreeing with the ‘crazy’ part. 

It’s not like Fenris doesn’t stay out to all hours with Hawke and the gang many nights. But the hours Zevran keeps is ridiculous. He isn’t even sure how he keeps finding things to do in a city like Kirkwall. If you’re not a mage up to no good or part of the Champion’s circle, it seems like there would be very little to do. 

It’s not that he owns Zevran, or thinks he should expect anything from him. But he saw the elf this morning with a smile and a promise he would be back tonight. So even though Fenris said, “I might be home,” quite indifferently, here he is up by the fire, listening for the assassin’s light footsteps.

He’s at the Rose, probably, rather than bothering with him Fenris is slow. Fenris is difficult. Fenris is wine and cards and practicing letters and maybe sex, and Zevran is only in town for a short time. And that’s fine. That’s his right. Fenris shouldn’t bother waiting.

But he knows he will be pleased to see Zevran when the assassin comes in wielding a bottle of Antivan brandy and a sheepish expression, even if it’s after he’s turned in for the night.

Not love. Crazy.

 

 

 

[Uninvited (Alanis Morissette)](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uvgi7P97lu0)

 

It is not Zevran’s job to worry about what happens to the slaves of people he kills. 

That is what he keeps telling himself as he endears himself to Danarius, posing as an Antivan slaver. Not part of the assignment. Not his business. Not his job.

Fenris is beautiful. Years of reading body language betray even the most stoic of elves, so Zevran knows Fenris is fascinated with him. There could be many reasons. Zevran is an elf who speaks his opinion openly to Danarius. Zevran tips his daggers with mage bane and slips the slave children extra food. Or it could be simply that Fenris has never met someone from outside Tevinter, where elves are rumored to be free. It’s not true, of course. Zevran isn’t free to leave this house until Danarius is dead, and then he's free only to return to the guild masters.

Fenris will be first to attack if he doesn’t manage to kill the Danarius silently. A fascinated bodyguard is still a bodyguard. 

One night, Fenris comes to his door. He wonders if Danarius thinks this will win Zevran’s favor, bringing him a fellow elf oiled and eager and wearing next-to-nothing. Fenris offers to give him a massage and Zevran knows if he sends the slave back it will be seen as a rejection of him, and he cannot bear the thought of him bearing lashes for his sake.

“Can you lie to your master about what happened here tonight?” he whispers to Fenris while pouring their second glass of wine. 

“That is not allowed,” Fenris says, swallowing hard.

“I did not ask for you to come here,” Zevran says. “I do not wish for things to become... unfortunate. You are a gorgeous man, and if I thought for a moment it was alright for me to be with you, I would. It is nothing against you, I assure you. But I must know, can you lie to him and tell him we had sex?”

The poison in his sleeve will dissolve quickly into the wine, he thinks, he needs only to pour in a few drops. It will be painless. Zevran’s behavior is suspicious, if Fenris reports it then Danarius will be more prepared for his play when it is made.

“I need a moment,” Fenris says, and deliberates.

 

 

 

[I Don’t Like Mondays (Tori Amos)](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cr3E6mNRxHU)

 

“Did you file the report?” 

Detective Arainai slides his chair over and puts his feet up on Fenris’s desk like he doesn’t give a damn. After years on the force with him, Fenris still isn’t sure if he really doesn’t, or if it’s some bizarre show of dominance. Sticking his stinky boots right smack dab in the middle of Fenris’s territory, and all Fenris ever does is growl about it. 

“I might,” Fenris grumbles, “If your fine Antivan leathers weren’t planted right in the middle of it.”

“It got pretty ugly out there,” Zevran said. “With the... spells.”

She was a young girl, true, and the report is full of testaments like: we had no idea, we had no idea, she was as good as gold, why would she turn to blood magic? What reason could there be? 

Fenris knows why. There’s never a real reason.

“I’m almost finished with it.” 

“How can I help you, my fine, frowning friend?”

“I’m fine.” 

“Perhaps some sex in the evidence locker to take your mind off the futility of it all?” 

“Leave.”

“Right. I will get you some coffee. And a donut.”

“I hate donuts.” 

“We all hate donuts,” Arainai says, “But beggars can’t be choosers.” Arainai sways his hips when he walks. Fenris tells himself he’s not staring. Arainai has left his chair, which means he’ll be back.

Fenris sighs. It’s been a long week, and it’s only Monday.

 

  

 

[Teenage Dirtbag (Wheatus)](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FC3y9llDXuM)

 

“You’re staring again, Broody,” Varric says from the corner of his mouth. “Andraste’s tits, would you look at that kid? He walks like he’s in a Pantene commercial.”

“Hn,” Fenris says, pretending to concentrate very hard on his history book. Okay. He’s drawing swords sticking out of the heads of all the famous mages in history. That’s almost the same thing.

“Fenris has a crush,” Isabela coos. “I could introduce you, you know. I know that Cousland kid he hangs out with is pretty stuck up, but Zevran’s cool. I made out with him once.”

 “Is there no one you haven’t made out with?” Aveline scoffs from a row ahead of them.

Fenris looks to Hawke to see if she’ll comment, possibly rescue him. She’s writing her name and Merrill’s over and over on top of her brown paper book cover, then drawing a heart around it. Barf.

Zevran wears one of those totally-lame letterman jackets. He, Cousland and a bunch of others make up the inner circle of the school’s elite. Everyone discounted soccer until this season, when Cousland led the Wardens to victory against the Darkspawn. Now everyone acts like they’re hot shit. But they’re not so great. 

Just not so humble that they’d ever talk to the likes of him.

Which is why Fenris is shocked when Zevran approaches him later that day in the park behind the school. He asks to bum a smoke. Dumbfounded, Fenris shares. Zevran breathes a “thank the maker” and flops backward on the grass, staring up at the sky and blowing smoke. 

“I should make you pay for that,” Fenris mutters. He has to call in favors with Hawke or Isabela to get his cigarettes: he’s not old enough and Varric and Aveline refuse. “They aren't cheap.”

“Alas, I am poor as a Chantry mouse,” Zevran says, “Could I pay with a kiss?”

Fenris clears his throat loudly. “Um.”

 

 

[Stronger Than Me (Amy Winehouse)](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7CYE0DYIbaw)

 

Zevran has passed out again.

Fenris considers just kicking him off the bed and seeing if he even stirs, or if he’ll just sleep if off on the floor. He might be better off there if he vomits, which he’s surprised hasn’t happened yet.

Another total shit night. It wasn’t too long ago that a night out drinking ended with furniture breaking sex, smirks and biting and laughter and fun. Zevran was just what he needed, Fenris thought. But then they got to know each other. Having heart-to-hearts over wine. And Zevran told him how he lost not one but two lovers, and suddenly Fenris cannot get rid of the guy. 

It disgusts Fenris that he once respected the man. He never understood Zevran’s methods of coping, but he admired his ability to live so happily with the knowledge of what he was. Come to find out he was just as pathetic as Fenris. 

He thought Zevran was the one who knew the world, understood how to live unburdened: clearly untrue.

Zevran lets out a snore, then whimpers in his sleep.

Fenris shakes his head and pulls the blanket over them both. 

Tomorrow. He’ll end this tomorrow, and wash away the stink of Antivan brandy and leather. 

The last thing he needs to do is take care of anyone.

 

 

[Let Freedom Reign (Chrisette Michele)](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uQ9idmO0JpE)

 

They meet again in jail. There’s blood pouring from Zevran’s nose and he’s laughing. 

“Fenris! I thought you did not care about the plight of city elves.”

“And I thought you were only involved to broaden your romantic possibilities and had no intention of actually attending rallies.”

Jethann hands Zevran a handkerchief. “Hold that there, hon?” 

Zevran does as he’s urged, still laughing. “What a thrill! Such violence in response to a simple rally!”

“Is he okay?” Fenris asks Jethann, lip curling. “How hard was he hit?” 

“This shirt is ruined,” Zevran snickers, “As is this handkerchief!”

“He might be a bit rattled,” Jethann cringes. “Zev, darling, I said you could keep it.”

“How’s your girl?” Zevran asks Jethann suddenly. 

Girl? Fenris looks at Jethann with a small amount of confusion. And then thinks, so Zevran hasn’t moved on to him?

“Shianni got away. Pretty sure she’s talking to the press. This is going to get big!” 

“Ha ha, most excellent! This is a good day, Fenris. This is an important day for elf freedom.”

He’s too close, all of the sudden, putting an arm around him. The blood is smeared on his face, and still oozing at a slow pace. Someone should send in a healer. They’re still booking elves. Fenris thinks he hears Merrill giving them hell. Zevran’s face is swollen and ugly.

Fenris kisses him. It is sticky and awful and Zevran pulls away with a small yelp. Varric will leave out those details when he retells it.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written/posted for the Songfic Shuffle Drabble game on reimagineyourotop on tumblr.
> 
> I took great liberties with the original prompt in that I listened to songs more than once while I finished the stories, and I did not make any effort to maintain a particular word count.


End file.
